


Escape

by Trytofocus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, No Sex, Sheith if you squint, Shibari, Voltron, Whump, keith - Freeform, non con bondage, non sexual bondage, rope, satyr au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trytofocus/pseuds/Trytofocus
Summary: Satyr!Keith gets tied to a post.





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [art](https://trytofocus.tumblr.com/post/176527165880/satyr-keith-au-more-later)

Keith stared daggers at the humans towering over him with their hands on their hips. They wouldn’t be so smug if he was free and not tied down so low to that stupid post. His hands were sticking up uncomfortably, fixed like that by the many coils of rope around and between them, leaving him hugging the itchy post. The inside of his forearms was already full of splinters from his earlier attempts trying to pull free but there was no give at all. He hoped this wasn’t a long term arrangement for he could already feel the tips of his fingers going numb. Relaxing his hands from the tight fists he’d been holding them in helped with that though, the pinching just hard enough to discourage the pulling. He stopped after a while, when he spotted his pinky going dark with bad blood flow, hating how the humans watching him nodded at each other, congratulating themselves on a job well done.  
  
They were smart to do this while he slept. Not by natural means of course. The little hole in the skin of his upper arm where the dart hit him itched as the droplet of blood crusted over. He couldn’t get to it.  
  
“Looks like he got it,” one of them said, like Keith wasn’t there at all. “People like hanging stuff on their little hands and fingers, would be a real pity if we had to lose em’.”  
  
Keith showed them his teeth with a hiss, then pressed his forehead to the post. Pointedly ignoring them as they’ve ignored his sentience. His horns framed and held on to it, letting him relax his neck and close his eyes. Breathe. Breathe. He imagined jumping so high over their heads they’ll be licking dust off his hooves. The thought made him smirk and his ears twitch. He’ll get the chance. He just has to bide his time. _Patience yields focus_ , as Shiro would say. He’s the only satyr Keith’s ever known to have been caught and escaped. That advice wasn’t empty. And he _will_ see Shiro again.  
  
His captors seemed to have scurried off somewhere when he finally dared to look around again. Their voices still audible but distant enough for him to relax a little. His ears trained on the source, somewhere behind him and off to the left. A surreptitious look around revealed nothing in sight. Now was his chance.  
  
He tried chewing on the rope. His teeth weren’t sharp but they were hard and tried, satyrs were grazing creatures and his bite could wear off even tree bark. They should be able to take care of some stupid rope. But this was something unlike the plant based rope satyrs used for their structures. It was smooth and tightly braided, the few strands he managed to separate only bent a little between his molars. His nose was stuck to the post as he tried and eyes darting around in case the humans come back. But he soon discovered that that was no use.  
  
Next he tried the post itself. He could theoretically graze through the wood, but that would take time, but the smoother, refined surface refused to separate like the layered tree bark Keith was used to. His lips, nose and chin started to chaffe the more he dug into it until he finally gave up after spending a longer time than it had any right to take only making a small dent.  
  
He pressed his forehead hard to the post again in frustration, feeling the thud of his horns bouncing against it a little before settling with it between their widest points. Then he blinked, pulling back suddenly.  
  
His horns.  
  
Stealing a few more glances in every direction he could, Keith angled his head and inched the tip of his left horn between the post and a coil of rope. When he pulled he felt his wrist squeeze painfully, then readjusted to try another coil until the pull was finding give from the knot hidden beneath where Keith’s fingers couldn’t reach. He put his ears down and concentrated on picking the loose strands apart without looking at what he was doing. It was working. He felt give in his wrists and hurriedly started twisting in the rope cuffs, chafing his skin raw. It will heal, he couldn’t let a little pain deter him from using a precious opportunity to escape. He closed his eyes and rotated his head to use his other horn to pick at where his neck wouldn’t twist, feeling the bumps against the wood where his horns connected with skull. A good, controlled bump felt nice, comforting, like playfighting with Shiro. He could do this. He could feel more rope loosening between the wrists.  
  
“Hey!” Someone yelled, and Keith’s heart sank when he heard footsteps rushing in his direction. “What are you doing! Stop that!”  
  
He didn’t stop. He pushed his horns into the ropes without discrimination to what pulled at his wrists and what didn’t and screamed when hands were in his hair, then grabbing him by the horns and wrenching his head back. Another pair caught his struggling hands and another pressed his hooves down to the ground where he couldn’t kick them. They were too big, their hands closed easily all the way around his limbs and he hated the feeling of being utterly helpless as more and more of them came over to stop him from escaping. A large hand finally found his throat and and another pinched one sensitive ear between thumb and forefinger, then twisted. Hard. Making him scream and then whimper in pain.  
  
He stopped fighting, his chest rising and falling as he panted, hearing his own thudding heart strongest against the fingers holding the shell of his ear. The hands on his horns didn’t let him put down his head so he couldn’t see when his hands were untied, and then retied behind him, cinched harshly with even more of that inescapable rope. Another human worked on his legs, tying his thighs and ankles together securely, locking him in a kneeling position for however long this was meant to last. He wouldn’t be able to stretch his legs at all now. It made him regret the attempt as more rope was tightened around his chest and shoulders, pressing his folded arms wrist to elbow and flush against his body.  
  
Finally, _finally,_ his head was let go of, and he let himself drop, sinking to his side to breathe and adjust to this new torment. The humans gave him a little bit of space but from so far down on the ground they looked even bigger. He struggled for a little bit but quickly despaired of it, knowing the humans wouldn’t let him make another attempt so soon. Instead he pressed his knees up to his chin, when his legs tired of trying to kick out of their restraints. He made himself small, smaller than he already was in comparison to them, as they clapped each other on the back and laughed among themselves at his most narrow escape.  
  
He heard some of them walk away, but another rustling sound made him brace and push his head into his knees as he was grabbed by the ropes on his back and _dragged_ . Then he felt the post between his shoulder blades, and when the human was done with him he couldn’t lie back down, or move away at all. With a satisfied sigh, the last of them went away at last, leaving him secured to the post. Back to square one.  
  
He hoped Shiro would notice he was gone soon, no amount of focusing could possibly get him out of this now.


End file.
